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User blog:Eddy847/Dark Journey: Chapter 3
Sorry about the lack of an update last week, I was kinda busy. To make you feel better, I made this chapter EXTRA long, so... Enjoy. ------ Several months had passed since the attacker was sent to Andrus 5, and the Sentinel faction had turned its attention towards other problems. The Maelstrom-infused warrior was reduced to becoming a story to tell to new guards for the prison planet. One such story was told to the penitentiary’s newest guard, Lemus Colt. Already suited up with armor, a blaster rifle, and about two hours worth of orientation, he made his way into the break room, where veteran guards and soldiers were lounging about. “Well now,” said one sentry who sported a striking red mustache, “you’re the new recruit, eh?” The soldier nodded. “My name’s Lemus Colt. Who are you?” The guard gestured to his ID tag. “Sergeant Brannan Landers, at your service,” he said with a wink, “but you can just call me Brannan. We’re not that formal around here.” The other Sentinels greeted Lemus with similar introductions. “Say, Lemus.” Brannan asked with a smile painted on his face, “Have you ever heard of Prisoner X?” “Oh, stop it, Brannan,” said a younger guard, who’s name tag read Bronson Jarls, “nobody wants to hear your ghost stories.” Brannan ignored him, though, and, lowering his voice to add to the atmosphere, spun his tale... “Nobody really knows much about him,” he began, “the only witnesses are far away from here, and we aren’t allowed to contact them.” He gave an eerie smile. “Some say that he’s the offspring of the Maelstrom and Death itself,” he claimed, “while others say that he’s a Paradox experiment gone wrong. At night, some of the guards have said that they heard him in his cell, scratching at the door with his long, dirty fingernails, and making a faint hissing sound, like some sort of snake.” He paused to let the information sink in, then continued. “A few say that he’s not a person at all, and that he can go for weeks without food. And one person,” he nodded discreetly at one of the other guards, “has said that he is the most powerful being in this universe. All we know,” he finished with a dramatic flourish, “is that he’s called Prisoner X.” Bronson Jarls seemed offended. “Brannan, what have we told you about scaring new recruits?” He then turned to Lemus. “Don’t worry about a thing. Half of the things he told you aren’t true, and the other half is false.” He looked back at Brannan. “You should just be glad Commander Raines hasn’t shown up-” “And why should he?!” a voice shouted from the doorway, startling every guard to their feet. Accompanying the voice was the biggest Sentinel Lemus had ever seen. He easily dwarfed every other soldier in the room, and looked as though the very earth might collapse under his immense size. He was clearly the man in charge, and had the personality to match. “So, what were you doing that you didn’t want me to find out about, eh?” he questioned, advancing towards Brannan with a deadly stare. “Nothing, sir,” he stuttered, “we were just telling stories-” “Ah-ha!” the commander exclaimed, as if he had found a weakness in his impromptu interrogatee. “So, you were scaring everyone with your stories about Prisoner X, is that it?” Brannan nodded weakly. “I see,” the commander said, contemplating his punishment, “very well. Since you seem so interested in Prisoner X today... You get to feed him.” Brannan tried to protest, but was quickly silenced by his superior. “That’s an order!” he said sharply. “As for the rest of you lot, you may as well make yourselves useful. Clean the ships!” As Brannan shambled off to take his punishment, and the rest of the soldiers complained that the prison needed to buy some cleaning robots and ‘Get modern,’ the commander held Lemus back. “Now Lemus,” he said, reading his nameplate, “you need to know that most of the things Brannan will tell you are probably false. Don’t worry.” But this didn’t help Lemus, who was already regretting coming to this break room, let alone this prison. What if the rumors were true? He could already see a picture in his head of a dark, evil monster, just waiting for him to make one mistake, to turn his back for one second... He was glad he didn’t have to feed this thing, whatever it was. As Brannan got closer to the center of the prison, he could feel an impending dread. He knew he should have kept his mouth shut, but he couldn’t resist telling a tall tale to an unsuspecting recruit. Now, as the guards on duty saw where he was headed and acknowledged his unluck, he regretted ever learning to speak. Brannan had never actually seen Prisoner X, and what little information he had about him was far less detailed than his own yarns. Based on what other guards had told him, though, seeing Prisoner X was an experience that did not leave you. After trekking through corridors and barred doors for some time, he finally arrived at the center of the penitentiary. Unlike other prison blocks, this one was below ground, and was not guarded by minifigures, who could be deceived or make mistakes, but instead by an arsenal of machine gun towers, rocket launchers, and deadly spikes. It was a suitable place for so dangerous a prisoner. In between Brannan and one of the most fortified structures in the sector stood a massive door, which was split into four sections. He knew that wrapped around each section was an electrical band, which would electrocute anyone who made physical contact with it. Next to the door stood a large console, which was mounted onto the wall. It was on this device that Brannan typed in ten passwords, scanned his hands and eyes, spoke a verbal password, alerted all security monitors that the room was being entered, and pushed the bright red button to open the door. It slid open with a cold, metallic hiss, and scanned Brannan’s DNA as he passed through, ensuring that the defense mechanisms did not attack him. Before him was a long, sloping walkway, which lead him to a massive structure, a building in its own right, which was octagonal in shape. After passing through a dark, foreboding archway, Brannan finally found himself at another door. This one, however, was not sleek or metallic, it had no added gadgets or weapons, no sensors, not even windows. In fact, it was more of a metal slab than anything. Nervously punching in yet another passcode, Brannan watched as the door creaked open, and revealed to him one, final image. This time, there was no door to be found. Instead, he was met with metal bars, designed to not let anyone in or out. These bars were fashioned with the strongest materials found in the galaxy, and it was through these bars that Brannan saw Prisoner X, enemy of the Sentinels, and the entire reason for the construction of the prison. At first, he didn’t seem impressive. In the dim light, all Brannan could make of him was a small shadow, hunched over on a small bench, sitting in silence. In a way, he was disappointed. But when he slid the bowl of food through a tiny hatch at the bottom of the prison bars, this shadow seemed to grow ten times larger. The prisoner stood up, eyed his food, and then the soldier. After what seemed like an eternity, a noise came. “You... You are not like the others. You are weaker. Frightened. Good...” The noise came from the prisoner. Brannan knew that under no circumstances was he supposed to communicate with prisoners, and he began to back away, when the prisoner suddenly flew himself at the jail bars, pressing his face as close as he could to the terrified guard. It was then that he noticed a faint, red glow in his eyes... Instinctively, Brannan drew his gun, and aimed at the prisoner. The prisoner was faster, however, and before Landers could pull the trigger, the cell bars were blasted about ten feet back, pinning a hapless Brannan underneath. Desperate not to become a victim of this fierce monster, Brannan reached for his gun, which had fallen a few inches away. If he could only stretch his arms a little bit further... Just as Brannan’s hand was an inch away, it was crushed underneath the foot of Prisoner X, bearing a wicked glare. As Brannan struggled against the enormous pressure building up on his hand, the prisoner spied his weapon, extended his palm, and let the gun fly into his grasp. Ready to finish Brannan off, the prisoner aimed the gun towards his head, but before he could fire, Landers kicked the cell bars off of his body onto the legs of Prisoner X, causing him to topple. Grabbing the gun, and with adrenaline surging through his body, Brannan tried to make one last escape, but just as he was a foot away from the door, he was brought down again, with a fiery sensation burning through his shoulder. Turning his head, Brannan gasped at the sight. His metal armor was burning, not with fire, but with The Maelstrom. Brannan knew that if any Maelstrom was detected outside the center of the prison, all weapons would be immediately turned to him. And he was pretty sure that Prisoner X knew as well. As Landers desperately tried to extinguish the fire, Prisoner X slowly advanced. Instead of pushing Brannan out to his doom, however, he grabbed him roughly by his burning shoulder, casually tossed him behind, and stepped outside. Immediately, every weapon nearby lowered itself toward him, and hundreds of lasers pointed at his face, for greater accuracy. The escapee was motionless. On cue, every weapon simultaneously fired itself. Although they were moving at high speed, everything was moving slowly for the escapee, and he timed himself exactly as the projectiles came thirty feet away from him. Twenty feet. Ten feet. Five. Three. With amazing accuracy, the escapee jumped upwards, navigating his way through the projectiles at lightning speed. Landing safely on his feet, he stood unflinching as the prison cell exploded behind him. Success, if not freedom. Before he got to the end of the walkway, alarms were already blaring, and he could hear hundreds of soldiers clamoring towards his location. No matter. He wasn’t going to let a mere army stop him from his vengeance. Closing his eyes and focusing on the massive door ahead, he gathered up some of the Maelstrom energy that he had hidden away and allowed to grow, and used it to propel himself to the top right corner of the massive gateway, clinging onto the ceiling like some hideous spider. As he saw the many soldiers storming through the entryway, guns poised for action, he almost chuckled at their foolishness, and slipped away. The Maelstrom energy was not an unlimited source, however, and he soon had to drop down to the floor. Cautiously, he made his way through the now empty halls, ducking every now and then as several guards passed by, on the lookout for him. None of them were really trying, however. After all, why would they want to be the unlucky ones to stumble across this raging criminal? As he crawled past guards, security cameras, and mechs, he felt relieved. The door leading outside was just ahead, and if he could make it past that, he would finally be free. The escapee eyed the door. This would be easy. And it would have been easy, if it wasn’t for the inconveniently placed Sentinel nearby. Despite his attention to detail, the escapee had not noticed the guard. However, the guard, Lemus Colt, saw the escapee clear as day, and prepared to bring an end to this breakout. Unfortunately, his hands were shaking in fear, and when he tried to fire his gun, he missed by several inches. And one miss was all it took. Spotting the source of the poorly aimed blast, the prisoner turned his attention from the door onto the soldier, and, no longer having enough Maelstrom energy to attack the Sentinel from afar, began charging towards him with all his might, as Lemus aimed his gun again... Moments before the two could collide, Lemus felt another force pushing him away from the attacker, and looked up to see Commander Raines, shielding him from any harm. Most of the effort was unnecessary, because once the escapee saw that his potential victim was now flanked by an even bigger soldier, he turned back to the door, and, using what little Maelstrom energy he had left to surge the door open, left without a word to spare. Once outside, the escapee quickly found what he was looking for: The Landing Pads. Here, he would be able to find something that would let him get off this planet. As he approached the fenced-in area, however, he noticed that instead of the traditional metal, each of the “bars” used for the fence was made of a very thin electrical beam, designed to shock anything that came into contact with it. He rolled his eyes. Such a hassle. Before he could come up with a solution, though, one was presented to him, in the form of several cleaning-bots, making their way out from cleaning the ship’s windows. Quickly, he ran through the now-open gate, startling the bots, who recognized his prison attire. Angrily beeping at him, they tried to come closer, but were quickly stopped when he slammed the gate shut, electrocuting two of the hapless robots. Knowing that he didn’t have much time before his location was discovered, he quickly selected his vehicle, a jet fighter with silver wings, a blue body, and yellow stripes, as well as the Sentinel logo emblazoned on both sides. Without hesitation, he jumped into the pilot’s seat, closed the cockpit, punched in some buttons, and took off. Freedom at last. As he flew away from the penitentiary, he thought back to the soldier who pushed his younger comrade out of the way of attack, risking his life in the process. Strange, that a servant of someone so heartless could possess such selflessness. He almost... No. They were the enemy, he reminded himself.They destroyed Crux. They ruined a perfect world. They were the monsters, not him. He was simply avenging his planet. The escapee was shaken from his thoughts as an explosion rocked his jet. Looking back, he saw a lone, one-man fighter rocket pursuing him, weapons poised to fire. It wasn’t over yet. “This is Sherland Powers, reporting in,” the pilot said into his comlink, “I found him. Firing now.” With those words, Sherland let loose with a barrage of gunfire, holding onto the triggers as if for dear life. It took all of the escapee’s skill to maneuver away from the manic pilot. Left and right, up and down, but no matter where he turned his vehicle, his pursuer was always right behind him. And then, all of a sudden, he disappeared. The escapee thought that perhaps he had shaken him loose, and resumed flying at a normal pace, when the fighter reappeared directly in front of him, nose towards the air. Before the escapee could react, Sherland did a neat loop over the plane, aimed his weapons, and fired expertly at the plane engines, doing serious damage. By this time, the two vehicles had left Andrus 5 and were flying over a small city planetoid. Despite the escapee’s desperate attempts to regain control over the plane, it continued to plummet, and he braced himself as it finally collided with a large building. Sherland hovered his fighter above the wreckage. “Target down, repeat, target down,” he said, “returning to home base.” But although the escapee was down, he was far from out. shaking himself loose from the rubble and bricks, he climbed out of the cockpit and surveyed the damage. The plane was beyond repair, and a small fire was burning, but he was safe. He turned to see where he had landed. It seemed to be a warehouse, probably abandoned, stacked to the brim with crates. One of the crates had been broken open by the crash, and he inspected its contents curiously. It was full of posters. Blue posters, orange posters, green posters, and red posters, each one with a picture of a person on the front. He looked closer, and then gasped. These people.... They were the ones at the temple! Now he understood. Underneath each picture was a message, saying things like “See the world with Venture League” and “The Sentinels need YOU.” They were recruitment posters, designed to lure more people into working for these world-destroyers. He was furious. Before, he had simply thought that they were small organizations, dedicated to minimalistic purposes. But every box he opened had the same posters, with the same words, and the same message. This wasn’t some minor problem they were dealing with... This was a war. A war where they sent people to fight the very menace they created. Disgusted, he grabbed the nearest poster, with Duke Exeter proudly displayed on the front, and threw it into the fire. Then another one. And another. And another. Before he threw the last one in, he looked at it. It was...different from the others. It had no flashy images, no inspiring messages, no promises of glorious battles and wonderful adventures. It just had three words. Embrace the Paradox. He looked at the back, and found a small box of text at the top. He read, “The Paradox faction, led by Vanda Darkflame, is dedicated to destroying the Maelstrom from the inside, exploiting its secrets.” He looked back at the front, which depicted Vanda. He had not seen her at the Temple. The man thought about what he had done, about what he had read, about what he would do next. He had no life to look forward to, that much was clear. Any life he had left was destroyed with Crux. He could spend the rest of his time hiding, on the run from the Sentinels, or.... He looked back at the poster. Embrace the Paradox. Destroy the Maelstrom from the inside. To be fair, the Maelstrom did play a part in the destruction of Crux, and he had only used it because of the power it possessed. These people, these Paradox agents... They were outcasts. Rejected by society, defecting from the Maelstrom, and unsatisfied with the other Factions. They were like him. It was at that moment, in that ruined warehouse, that the man made a decision. He would join the Paradox. If nothing else, he could at least fight chaos in the memory of Imagination. He turned the poster over again. On the bottom, details were listed about the nearest vehicles departing for Nimbus Station, where he could sign up for a faction. As luck would have it, the Venture Explorer was scheduled to leave in two hours, and wasn’t far away either about a couple miles north. The man folded up the poster, stepped out of the warehouse, and headed into the North. ------ Like I said, EXTRA long. Category:Blog posts